


Folly a Deux

by Samarkand12



Category: Calvin & Hobbes, Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 03:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13779105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samarkand12/pseuds/Samarkand12
Summary: Folie a deux:  a psychiatric syndrome in which symptoms of a delusional belief and sometimes hallucinations are transmitted from one individual to another.  Reality has always been a slippery thing for Calvin Watterson.  And madness has always lurked within a certain girl he has the misfortune to target with a snowball one winter day.Reality and sanity for everyone around them may be less reliable than usual for everyone around these two as they begin a folly a deux.





	1. Chapter 1

 

"Hee hee!" Calvin said, a devilish grin plastered across his face. The release cord was held in one mittened hand. "I'm so going to get Susie today. Let's see her dodge a snowball trebuchet!"  
  
"I can't believe you actually built it," Hobbes said, at the bits of lumber haphazardly nailed together.  
  
"Never thought I'd ever say this," Calvin admitted, "but for once Mom was right, making me watch PBS instead of cartoons on Saturday."  
  
"Hey, that isn't Susie," Hobbes said.  
  
"It's that dorky new girl who transferred in?" Calvin smirked. "Too bad. She's still a slimey girl. HEY DORKFACE, GET A LOAD OF ICY DOOM!"  
  
At which point the new girl in class reached into her schoolbag and brought out--  
  
"Is that a leaf-blower?"  
  
Calvin's eyes widened when an avalanche's worth of snow arched up from the madly-sputtering device.  
  
"Oh, no."  
  
++++  
  
**_"YOU NASTY LITTLE TOAD!"_**  
  
Calvin groaned and looked up.  
  
Red-blonde hair with a cowlick sticking up, green eyes behind glasses, an expression madder than mom usually got and--  
  
"Is that a trilobite?"  
  
**" _Of course it is! I'm surprised an obvious ignoramus like you knows what one is!"_**  
  
"Sure I do. Saw one at the museum," Calvin said, spitting out snow. "I go there all the time. Dinosaurs are the coolest things ever."  
  
A pause.  
  
"Hmmmph." The new girl turned to Hobbes. "Does he have any redeeming qualities aside from an appreciation of paleontology?"  
  
"Great tummy rubs," Hobbes said, munching a sandwich. "Mmmmm. Tuna."  
  
"Stop taking gifts from the enemy!" Calvin shouted.  
  
"Shoddy work, by the way." Agatha sniffed as she examined the remains of the trebuchet. "I can see ten different ways it would have failed."  
  
"Oh yeah?" Calvin leapt to his feet. "Show me, dorkface."  
  
She handed him a school notebook.  
  
"Uh." Calvin scratched his head at the blueprints. "This is really good. Do you build models?"  
  
"During the prototype stage," Agatha said. "Do you?"  
  
"He gets frustrated when they don't come together," Hobbes said around a mouthful of sandwhich, "and then smashes them."  
  
"Shut up, traitor!" Calvin cocked his head. "So...would you like to work with me to make a better catapult?"  
  
"So you can ambush me again?" Agatha asked, producing a dangerously large wrench from her pack.  
  
"Nah. So we can see how far we can throw a big snowball." Calvin rubbed his hands together. "I bet we could launch one a mile over to that lake in the woods. KERSPLASH!"  
  
Agatha paused.  
  
"Well...that sounds...fun..."  
  
++++

"Look, Calvin's playing with the new girl," his mother said, glancing outside the window.  
  
"Good," Calvin's father said. "Maybe for once we can go through a day without him getting into trouble."


	2. Chapter 2

Susie Derkins was sure of many things in life. She was sure she'd be President of the United States. She was sure that she was the smartest girl in the class. Of all things, she was absolutely sure that Calvin Watterson was the craziest and second-meanest kid in school. Moe was the worst when it came to bullying. But when it came to nastiness and complete chaos, Calvin was up there in the elementary school's rogues gallery. Susie had tried to be nice to him from time to time. There had been a few moments when he hadn't been completely obnoxious. It was still a law of nature that Calvin's usual response to anything girl-shaped involved insults, slushballs, and gross-outs.  
  
It turned everything she knew about the universe upside-down that he was being nice to a girl.  
  
Susie craned her neck around to peer at Calvin and Agatha. Usually Miss Wormwood had him front-and-center to keep an eye on him. Today he had managed to snag a seat in the back with the strawberry-blonde girl in the old-fashioned clothes. Agatha had transferred in back in October. Pretty quiet, kept to herself. She wore clothes that were out of history books: back when men wore top hats and women had dresses down to their ankles. Maybe her family was one of those religious types, like the people who couldn't use electricity and drove horse and buggies. Usually she seemed pretty bored in class. Though whenever a teacher asked her a question she gave the right answer. Now, the two of them bowed their heads close together and whispered whenever Miss Wormwood wasn't facing the class.  
  
*WHACK*  
  
Susie yelped when a ruler smacked across her desk.  
  
"Would like to share something with the class, Miss Derkins?" Miss Wormwood said, looming over her.  
  
Behind her, she heard Calvin's unmistakable snicker.  
  
+++  
  
Calvin.  
  
In the library.  
  
During recess.  
  
Susie Derkins pinched herself. She had never seen Calvin in the school library except when they were forced to work together as assignment partners. Usually he had a Captain Napalm comic book hidden between the pages of whatever he was supposed to be studying. Now there was a huge stack of books beside him that he was thumbing through without writing stuff on the pages. Hidden behind a shelf, Susie peered at the title of what he was reading: _Crusader Castles._ That sort of made sense. Calvin would like reading about knights and dragons and such. If only to run around yelling he was Sir Calvin and trying to burn her at the stake as a witch. Only this book looked like it had the opposite of picture-to-text he usually read.  
  
"So, where are we going to get a chainsaw?" Calvin said to Agatha, sitting beside him. "Dad locked it up after I tried sneaking it up into my room to fight off the monsters under the bed."  
  
Now that was the boy Susie knew.  
  
"I think I can rig something up," Agatha replied. "It's amazing what you can find in the old factories at the edge of town."  
  
"Mom would freak out if I went out there," Calvin said. "How do you get your parents to let you out there?"  
  
"They don't care much." Agatha bit her lip. "They're a foster family. They don't pay much attention to me."  
  
"That must be amazing!" Calvin grinned. "You can go in and out whenever you want. They never make you take a bath. No checking your homework."  
  
Yep. Same stupid Calvin.  
  
"In some ways it's alright," Agatha said quietly. "But they just...don't care. I'm all alone. I don't even remember much of my life before. It's a blur."  
  
"Cool." Calvin rubbed his hands. "You could be an alien, or a time traveler, or something."  
  
Agatha sniffled.  
  
"Aww, come on," Calvin said. "Mom and Dad like you. And you have me and Hobbes. Who cares what your stupid fake parents think?"  
  
"It's nice having a friend," Agatha said, smiling shyly.  
  
"You're not going to kiss me, are you?" Calvin leaned away. "Because girls can carry horrible communicable diseases. I'm only putting up with you because you're not like Susie Dorkins, into dumb things like tea parties."  
  
"I thought it was because I'm the only one," Agatha said, smirking, "who can make the pneumatic snowball cannons work?"  
  
Susie blinked.  
  
"Hehehehehehe." Calvin's face twisted into an evil grin. "That too."  
  
What in the name of Mister Bun was going on here? 


	3. Chapter 3

A orange-and-black feline form napped in the ray of sunlight coming through the window.  
  
An ear flicked.  
  
*ZIP*  
  
A lamp shivered. A tip of a tail twitched.  
  
*ZIP*  
  
From beneath a couch, flesh-rending claws extended in anticipation.  
  
*ZIP*  
  
In the vestibule, a shadow lurked in the light fixture hanging above the ceiling.  
  
The front door opened.  
  
"CEILING TIGER POUNCES ON--"  
  
* **PHOOOOOOOOM***  
  
"Hobbes? Mein Gott, I'm sorry! You startled me."  
  
"Neat! This death ray is even better than my zorcher! Does it have a face melting setting?"  
  
"Don't worry, I have some bactine in my knapsack--"  
  
++++  
  
"Excuse me, could I have some paper towels?" Agatha asked.  
  
"Well, you can have some newspaper from the recycling bin," Calvin's mother said. "What are you playing?"  
  
"Calvin and I are playing 'Operation'." The little strawberry blonde girl gathered up yesterday's Sports and Living sections.   
  
"Not 'Doctor'?" Oh great. As hard as it was to keep the kid in his clothes at times....  
  
"Nein." Agatha opened a cupboard. "Can I borrow this collander, too?"  
  
"Of course you can," Calvin's mother said. "Just wash it and bring it back when you're done. Supper's in three quarters of an hour."  
  
"Thank you having me over," Agatha said.   
  
"It's my pleasure," Calvin's mother replied, smiling at the girl.  
  
It really was, she thought, as Agatha headed up to Calvin's room. She loved her son. He could be a great kid. Really. The potential was there. Deep down. Every so often, though--well, every ten minutes--she wondered what it might have been if she had had a nice and sweet and above all well-behaved daughter instead of a boy. Lipstick would be used in dress-up games instead of across the wall. She could shop in the lingerie section of the department store without a clerk reporting that her child wasn't trying to use the extra-large bras as drogue chutes. House insurance premiums might actually be lower than mortgage payments.  
  
Agatha was a foster child.  
  
A quiet, polite little girl.  
  
Calvin's mother shook her head. No. If Calvin was bad enough now, adding in sibling rivalry and jealousy would ramp up the chaos. Although she and her son played together quietly enough. Usually Calvin being quiet while playing was the calm before the storm. But so far, after three straight days of inviting her to play after school, the daily toll of property damage was minimal. Maybe she couldn't do anything official for Agatha. But that didn't mean she couldn't be a Big Sister for the girl. It'd be nice--  
  
*CRASH BOOM*  
  
Calvin's mother reacted with instincts honed after six years. Up the stairs, down the hall, door open in under five seconds--  
  
"CALVIN, WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT RUNNING AROUND AND KNOCKING--o-ver--ohhhh--"  
  
Calvin's mother took in the scene in her son's room. The piece of lumber repurposed with leather straps thumb-tacked to the wood. On it was Calvin's stuffed tiger with new stitching around its joints and neck. The collander was on Hobbes' head, an extension cord leading to what looked like a collision of a circuit breaker box and a radio. Her son in a white lab-coat with an outrageously hunched back and his most monstrous expression, with a terrifyingly real rendition of a human brain rendered out of Play-Dough. Hump. That was what Agatha had wanted the newspaper for. Agatha herself stood by a knife-switch made out of cardboard, hitting a large pan that she had borrowed earlier.  
  
_"I have called the lightning!"_ Agatha yelled, cackling wildly. _"Is the new brain prepared, Calgor?"_  
  
"Yeth, Mithstreth!" Calvin drooled.   
  
_"Then let us prepare to violate the bounds of life and dea--_ oh, Mrs. Watterson, I'm sorry. Were we making too much noise?"  
  
"Yes." Calvin's mother smiled. It was more of a corpse's rictus. "Could you keep it down?"  
  
"Mooooooooooom! The thunder and lightning's the best part."  
  
"No, we might have gotten carried away." Agatha smiled. "Actually, would you mind playing with us? You're perfect."  
  
"What...for?" Calvin's mother asked.  
  
Agatha handed her a plastic pitchfork from the depths of Calvin's closet, part of a Farmer Brown playset.  
  
"We need someone to play the peasant mob."  
  
++++  
  
"That was great!" Calvin said, taking off his labcoat. "Mom even joined in! Who knew playing with your mom could be fun?"  
  
"She's a natural for the part," Agatha said, setting aside her goggles. "She really projects an aura of terrified rage. Oh, Hobbes, are the stitches itching? I can take them out."  
  
"Maybe later," Hobbes said, with a dreamy expression.   
  
"What's wrong with you, fuzz-head?" Calvin asked, as Agatha headed to the bathroom to wash her hands.  
  
"She's just...dreamy." A goofy grin was plastered across the tiger's muzzle. "Green eyes and red hair. Do you think she'd put on some whiskers?"  
  
"Hobbes and Agatha, up in a tree," Calvin sang mockingly, "K-I-S-S-I-N-G--"  
  
"You're only jealous of my natural feline grace," Hobbes replied, nose tilted up. "Chicks dig that."  
  
"Hey, she's my friend!" Calvin snarled.  
  
"Oooooo!" Hobbes said, grinning only the way a tiger can. "Little Calvin's in luuuuuuuurve too."  
  
Calvin shoved Hobbes.  
  
Claws extended--  
  
"Stop it!" Agatha said from the doorway, clipboard in hand. "Calvin said his mother's cooking had mutagenic properties. If you beat each other up, then the stress levels will skew the data."  
  
"Fine, fine." Calvin stuck his tongue out at Hobbes.   
  
"Do you think I'd look great in a monocle?" Hobbes said. "Or a bow tie. She'd really go for a bow-tie."  
  
"You're such a weirdo. At least with Agatha around there's someone normal in this dump."


	4. Chapter 4

Calvin's father has once read an essay about Paris and Amsterdam. It had been passed on by a sympathetic co-worker after Calvin had guilted him into reading _Hamster Huey_ over the phone from his office. The essay was meant to bring him comfort. It talked of Paris. Of dreaming and scrimping and saving and finally taking that long-awaited flight to most romantic city in the world. Only, one got off the plane to find oneself in Amsterdam. No, you couldn't get back on the flight. Your hotel reservation had been switched, too. You were going to see Amsterdam and that was that. And the essay had concluded that even if Amsterdam wasn't what you were dreaming of, it was still alright. There were all sorts of wonders to be seen there.  
  
"The firth thample," Calvin said, with a fake hunchback beneath his red-and-black striped shirt, "ith toadthtools in dioxin thauce."  
  
"That's steamed brocolli!" snapped his wife.  
  
"I can feel the changethes, Mithstress!" Calvin writhed in his thea--seat. "YETH! TENTACLETH!"  
  
"Are they squamous or rugose?" Agatha said, pencil poised over her clipboard.  
  
"Elditch-th-th-th--" Calvin squirmed. "I give my thoul and body to thience!"  
  
"Sorry about this," whispered Agatha to his wife, as his son took anothe th--sample. "The methodology is terrible. We should be doing a double-blind study. But at least he's eating his vegetables."  
  
What the sanctimonious author of that essay hadn't answered is what happened if you ended up in Belfast during the Marching Season.  
  
++++  
  
Calvin's father loved cycling. It was invigorating. It toned the body and mind. It was environmentally friendly. It was the perfect excuse to seal yourself in your garage to deal with vitally important maintenance work while insanity reigned in the house. He wasn't sure how Calvin had fixated on mad science as his latest fantasy, or how he had gotten a sweet girl like Agatha to play along. All he knew is that he was sitting right here installing a new sprocket until his wife wrestled the kid into bed. His wife would kill him for this. Probably also leave the pamphlets about vasectomy on the night-table.  
  
Hey, he had offered to buy her a daschund instead.  
  
The door connecting the kitchen to the garage creaked open. Calvin's father closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. He recited the mantra that it was a good thing for a son to be interested in activities with his father. Eventually they'd find one that didn't involve Calvin grumbling for cheeseburgers already. Kid didn't understand that hardship built character. To his surprise when he finally turned around, it wasn't spiked sandy hair peeking around the edge of the door. Agatha in her old-fashioned clothes--a white blouse beneath a green vest and matching skirt--was there instead. Green eyes behind delicate gold-rimmed glasses stared at him with a wistful expression.  
  
"He used to work like that at his workbench," the little girl said, half-under her breath.  
  
"Your dad?" he asked.  
  
"No. I think it was my uncle," Agatha said. "My memories aren't too clear. But I remember him doing that all the time. I used to watch and play at his feet with old tools of his."  
  
Behind her, his wife stepped into sight in the kitchen.  
  
Her head was covered in bubbles and her shirt was soaked.  
  
Right. Calvin's bath time.  
  
"So you like working with things?" Calvin's father leaned over, hand on his knees. "You were quite the lab assistant with Calvin."  
  
"Yes. Yes, I was." Agatha had that strange, puzzled expression. "I'm pretty good with tools. I fixed my foster mom's sewing machine--she does piecework--and she gives me an allowance for my projects, Even taught me to sew."  
  
"You must have made these." Calvin's father smiled. "Do you enjoy making pretty costumes?"  
  
"Oh yes, and drinking tea and just dreaming of being a perfect princess!"  
  
His wife hid a silent laugh behind a hand at Agatha's angry foot-stomp and sarcastic tone.  
  
"All the other girls talk about?" Calvin's father said.  
  
"They're all a bunch of flighty, ignorant--" Agatha sighed. "Maybe not all of them. But none of them are interested in science stuff. At least with Calvin there's something to talk about, even if it fixates on explosions."  
  
"You should give them a chance," Calvin's father replied. "Thanks for giving my son a chance, too. He spends a lot of time alone."  
  
"Yeah," Agatha said, one corner of her mouth twisting down. "He lives a lot inside his head. Know the feeling."  
  
"Would you like to sleep over tonight?" his wife said. "It's late enough to be driving you back. I have some of my old night-clothes I had when I was your age. We can unpack them."  
  
"It's Saturday. I'll be up early," Calvin's father said. Oh yes. With a blaring TV and Calvin high on Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs. "Maybe you and me can work on my bicycle together."  
  
Calvin's father gurgled when a surprisingly solid Agatha flung her arms around his neck. He adjusted his glasses as the girl clung to him. His wife came to his rescue with her superior child-wrangling skills. Agatha babbled happily as they headed back into the house. He massaged his neck. His wife had wanted a daughter. When their own rambunctious immigrant from Holland has landed in their lives, she had accepted having a son without much complaint beyond dark mutterings about her husband's chromosones. She didn't have a chance to deal much with the other girls in the neighborhood because-- Well, Calvin and girls. Especially the Derkins girl. He had heard all about what had happened when she'd come over to their house that one day. Somehow, though, Calvin and Agatha had clicked.  
  
He spotted the notebook on the floor. She must have dropped it. It must be her diary. He had better hide it before Calvin spotted it. His son and a girl's private journal were trouble no matter how much he liked her. One of the pages had loosened from the metal coil binding. Sticking out from the rest of the pages, he could see part of a complex pattern of gears. Calvin's father wasn't too much different from his son. He opened her notebook after a nervous glance at the open door. He whistled. He had seen a lot of professional draftsmanship as a patent attorney. This was up there. All sorts of crazy mechanisms were drawn out. Damn near ready for glue and decals. He leafed through one section, admiring a meticulously detailed circus carousel.  
  
That sprouted cannon.  
  
...the little people running screaming from the hail of gunfire was, uh, realistic.  
  
...oh, God, that wasn't a peach pitter.  
  
He slammed the notebook shut. It had to be his son. There was no way a sweet, innocent little girl like Agatha would think up things like that without Calvin egging her on. Calvin's father marched into the house to stuff the notebook into the jacket hanging in the front hall. Also, to hide the Erector Set he had given his son last Christmas. It hadn't been used since Calvin had gotten frustrated with it. He preferred his Tinkertoys and cheap toy cars. The latter were bought from the dollar stores these days because they too often ended up the victim of tsunamis, toxic waste spills, and crashing jet liners. At the same time.  
  
His wife and Agatha were coming out of the bathroom when he reached the second floor. The strawberry-blonde girl was in a faded white night-dress trimmed in lace. She hugged his wife fiercely before hopping into the guest room bed. His wife watched her for a long time, her hand at her belly, until soft snores came from within. He didn't mention what he had seen in the notebook as they went to bed. No sense in worrying her over it. He'd have a talk with Agatha about Calvin's exuberant ideas later. Lying in the dark, he felt his wife's hand take his.  
  
"We can't," she said quietly.  
  
"It's why I love you," he said. "And, we could. Work's steady at the agency. She doesn't sound very happy in foster care."  
  
"If we do, it can't be a temporary placement," his wife said. "If she goes back to another family after a few months, it would kill her."  
  
"We'll talk about it tomorrow."  
  
"I love you, dear."  
  
"Night, hon."  
  
++++  
  
"And, this is grandpa's accordion!" Calvin said, dragging in a music case.  
  
"Wh--it's three AM!" Agatha rubbed her eyes.  
  
"It's Saturday," Calvin said. "We can't waste a moment. Petty creeps the pace, day by day. In a few years we'll regret about not living life to its fullest."  
  
"Has anyone ever talked to you about impulse control?"  
  
"All the time," Calvin said, struggling with the clasps of the case. "Do you have any idea how boring that is? Come on, you're always talking about how you're great with keyboard instruments. If you're a genius at this, Mom'll fixate on you taking piano lessons instead of making me go to them."  
  
"What a magnificent instrument," Agatha said, as the accordion was finally released from its case. She gave it an experimental squeeze. "The reeds are still good. No cracking in the bellows."  
  
"Play, already!"  
  
"...are you sure your parents won't mind?"  
  
"No, I turn up the record player all the time when I dance with Hobbes. "  
  
"Well, okay."  
  
+++  
  
Two pairs of blood-shot eyes stared at the ceiling.  
  
"She's really good."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Brilliant."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"It's a kind, generous act to take care of an orphan girl."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"...we just have to keep her away from Calvin as much as possible."  
  
"YES!" 


	5. Chapter 5

Ha ha ha ha.  
  
He had lulled her into complacency. Calvin rubbed his hands in glee. His victim slept unaware of the righteous vengeance awaiting her. He'd show her! Cackling silently, he tip-toed over to the helpless girl. From out of a sand pail he brought out the instrument of justice: several tiny chips of ice just the right size to slip down the back of a night-dress. No-one blind-sided Calvin during a snowball fight. He had to be careful. Ever so slowly, he hooked his pinky finger into the neckline of her gown and--  
  
Her eyes snapped open.  
  
Ten nanoseconds later, a pillow headed for his kisser at the speed of light.  
  
+++  
  
"Rassafrassin' girls," Calvin said, glumly eating another spoonful of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs.  
  
"Who decided to prank a girl," Hobbes said, screwing a monocle into one eye,"who can out-draw a tiger in mid-pounce? I know. You did."  
  
"I demand a rematch!" Calvin rubbed the right side of his face. It still ached two hours later.  
  
"Is the derby me?" Hobbes asked. He tipped the hat, a souvenir from Mom and Dad's last St Patrick's party, so that his ears stuck out on either side. "I think this gives me that debonair je ne sais quoi."  
  
"You look like a Grade-A Moron." Never had defeat and high-fructose corn syrup tasted so much of ashes. "Your whiskers are totally stupid."  
  
"Monsieur does not know fashion." Hobbes stroked whiskers waxed with Mom's mousse and curled up at the ends. "This style is all the rage in Paris."  
  
"You're going to messily devour Agatha," Calvin growled. "Or else we're through. Hear me? We're done if I don't see her intestines spread over the carpet."  
  
"A tiger would never eat a lady." Hobbes hooked a cane over one foreleg. "Do you think it's too early in the courtship to refer to her as 'pooty pie'?"  
  
"Get out of here before I lose my lunch before I've even eaten it."   
  
Hobbes sniffed the joke spritz-flower tucked into one lapel of the jacket he wore on restaurant nights. Calvin turned his back on him to not see how far his friend had fallen. He should have known. Hobbes was a sucker for girls. That was the problem. Calvin had gone soft. He had allowed one of Them into the inner fortress. Oh, she had wormed her way past his defenses. Then, she had struck. His best friend in the world was helpless before her evil wiles. She thought she could buy him off by bringing a bowl of Sugar Bombs and chocolate milk to his room while he was unconscious? He couldn't let himself be fooled. Never again.  
  
Stupid girls and their incredibly fast reaction times and their freaky strength.  
  
He probably should have noticed that she was a lot stronger than most girls. The sleeveless night-gown had shown off arm-muscles that might even make Moe back off. It must be that knapsack of hers. He swore he saw her pull out a small engine-block once while rummaging through it. It was worse than Mom and her purse. Calvin flexed a bicep. Sigh. Still scrawny. Everyone was stronger or taller or had Dad-Tyrant-For-Life powers that were impervious to opinion polls. He ground down the last mouthful of cereal. Now he was stuck with being Agatha's chew toy. How could he stop Hobbes from plunging into the vile clutches of the she-demon?  
  
Calvin couldn't.  
  
...but the lethal deinonychus could.  
  
Clawed feet scraped the undergrowth of the Cretaceous forest. Feathers ruffled as nostrils flared, scenting the delicious scent of a man-thing. A beak-like jaw snapped. Curved teeth like tiny carving knives glistened with drool. The hunt was on. Scuttling through the forest, the swift and deadly predator hunted its prey. Soon the deinonychus would taste mammal flesh. What puny man-thing could survive its swift attack and furious attack? The man-thing would bleat while fang and talon tore it to pieces. One eye glared through an open spot between two ferns at the red-head-pelted victim.  
  
MINE!  
  
*WHACK*  
  
...the deinonychus decided to sit quietly at the table, because being hit in the snout with a wooden spoon hurt. A lot. Agatha turned back to stirring a bowl full of pancake mixture. Hobbes sat on another chair sipping a cup of tea. The deinonychus honked mournfully as it scented delicious roast bacon sizzling in a skillet on the stove. Agatha shook a finger, warning it off. Rats. Pouring the mixture into another pan, she divided it into several pancakes before returning to the bits and pieces of one of Mom's old coffee makers and a broken campfire percolator of Dad's.  
  
"Hrrrrroonk!" Deinonychus rubbed its schnozz.  
  
"If I let every armored reptilian monstrosity distract me," Agatha said, "I'd never get anything done. Not even close, Calvin. Hobbes, pass me that 9mm sprocket."  
  
"Of course, madmoiselle," Hobbes said.  
  
"BRRRRRRNK!"  
  
"Shut up." Agatha stuck her tongue out of one corner of her mouth, hands deep in the device she was building. "That's the second time this morning. You lose bowl licking privileges. Hobbes has the honour."  
  
"Nyah!" Hobbes smirked, the prize in his paws.  
  
"Hrnk?"  
  
"Keep an eye on the 'cakes." Agatha hummed under her breath. "Flip 'em when they bubble."  
  
The swift, sleek demonic predator of the Cretaceous grumbled as it tied an apron around its waist.  
  
Stupid girls.  
  
++++  
  
Calvin's mother and father stared dumbfounded into the kitchen. It had to be sleep deprivation. Their son could not be flipping pancakes at the stove. Not when it wasn't a birthday, Mother's or Father's Day, or the coming of the apocalypse. Another sign they were hallucinating was that the kitchen wasn't a shambles, with stains and splatters that would take the entire day to clean off with a paint scraper. Every surface gleamed as if it were a doctor's operating room. Set out on the table was fresh-squeezed juice, rashers of bacon, sunny-side up eggs that weren't hockey pucks, and coffee that was--was-- Calvin's mother drifted over to the bizarre refinery-cum-percolator burbling away on the counter. She poured herself a cup in her favorite mug.  
  
"It's....perfect."  
  
"You did this?" Calvin's father asked.   
  
"I--uh--Agatha--"  
  
"Of course he did!" Agatha said, coming in from the living room with accordion case in hand. "The coffee engine is mine. I didn't use anything from your workshop, sir. But Calvin did the rest. Didn't you?"  
  
"Yes!" Calvin said. "Because you're the best mom and dad ever."  
  
"Who don't need to be woken up," Agatha said, eyes narrowed, "because someone tricked a guest into playing Chopin on the accordion at three am. Or else that someone could end up with his parents selling him to a traveling freak show."  
  
"We tried, no takers--OW!" Calvin's father grasped his ankle, kneading it.  
  
"You can cook?" Calvin's mother said, wiggling her foot back into its slipper.  
  
"Oh, it's only applied chemistry," Agatha said. "Even a complete imbecile could do it. With some help."  
  
Calvin muttered under his breath.  
  
"Why, at his age, Mom had me canning," Agatha said, "and making preserves and all sorts of things."  
  
"How old are you?" Calvin's father asked.   
  
"I--I mean--" Agatha grimaced. A hand pressed to one temple. "I mean my Mom was doing all that. I meant that."  
  
"Sit down," Calvin's mother said. She lifted Agatha into the chair next to Calvin's stuffed-- Why was it wearing a monocle? "You look faint. You must have worn yourself out helping Calvin. Want some chocolate chip pancakes?"  
  
"Sure, Mom!" Calvin's grin dissolved under the bile of two parental glares that still had not forgotten. Or forgiven.  
  
"Thanks, Mo--Mrs. Watterson," Agatha said. "Do you mind if I play some more? It clears my head."  
  
"Of course you can." Calvin's mother shooed her son away from the stove. "Move aside, kiddo, let a professional work."  
  
"Okay." Opening the case, Agatha slung the accordion's strap around one shoulder. "What's that, Hobbes? 'Around Midnight'? Never learned that one. We could try the Storm King's Overture."  
  
Had to be a dream, Calvin's parents thought, when the wild crescendo of sound filled the kitchen.  
  
They didn't want to wake up.


	6. Chapter 6

Calvin hated ethical dilemmas. On the one hand, Mom and Dad were completely blissed out on whatever Agatha had brewed up. It was time to strike! His inner nature couldn't abide the complacency. It was his duty to shock them out of their daily humdrum lives. It was also a very bad idea to let them think life this good was normal. High expectations meant they would expect it all the time. Argh! Agatha had destroyed the delicate balance of terror that he had spent years creating.

On the other hand, Agatha had given him credit for helping make breakfast. It'd be kind've stupid to torpedo the good will he had earned over it. It would be like tossing out homework Hobbes had done for him. Actually, he usually would be better off throwing Hobbes-completed assignments in the garbage; he got even worse grades on those than ones he did himself. Hobbes told him it was only because Miss Wormwood couldn't interpret the sheer genius of a tiger's thinking. Eventually she would come around. Calvin banked on it, because there was no way he was actually wasting time on homework.

On the third hand, no sense wasting valuable time that could be spent rotting his brain on Saturday morning cartoons on actual thought. Calvin abandoned his brain to the Blind Idiot TeeVee God and his tastebuds to Agatha's waffles. Yes. Just for these he would grant them a single day of peace. It was wise to be generous. Anyway, the quiet contentment in the house was nice. It was like snoozing under a tree in the middle of summer vacation. Agatha and Hobbes were curled up by the fire Dad had lit in the fireplace. Dad was reading instead of forcing Calvin into character-building walks outside. Mom wandered by and ruffled Calvin's hair.

"Thanks for breakfast, kiddo," Mom said. "You did good today."

There was that ugly word again.

"You get along with Agatha very well," Mom continued. She smiled. "You're not worried about catching cooties from her?"

"She's not infested like Susie," Calvin said. "Agatha isn't really a girl. I have intelligent conversations with her. A real girl wouldn't talk about hunting allosaurs with death rays."

"Planning to drag out your cardboard box out of the closet?" Mom asked.

"Moooom, it's a time machine." Calvin rubbed his hands gleefully. "Forget pictures this time. We're gonna bring back hides! We're splitting the profits 50-50."

"Just don't squash any butterflies." Mom patted his head. "So, you wouldn't mind if she stayed with us."

Uh-oh. Mom had that serious face. Not "coming home from parent-teacher night", but "I have to tell you what happened to the raccoon".

"You know that I love you," Mom said. "You're my kid. You can't be replaced."

"Sure. Dad told me Sears has a no return policy," Cavin said, "and nobody replied to the last Craiglist posting."

"And we're going to have a long talk about that. dear." Mom glared at Dad, who hid behind his Cycling magazine. "What I want to say is that I'm going to ask Agatha if she'd like to stay with us. As part of the family."

"Like a--" Calvin shot up. "You mean like a sister."

"Don't think it's because I wanted a girl instead of you." Mom knelt by the chair. "I want to let Agatha be as happy as you make us."

"It'd make sense. She's already pre-assembled," Calvin said, considering it. "If it were up to you and Dad, who knows what you'd come up with? You got lucky with me, but that's no guarantee of quality control."

Dad made a funny kind of gargle.

"Yes, Calvin." Mom had a weird look on her face. "Don't tell Agatha, okay? We have to arrange things."

"Isn't the SPCA open?" Calvin asked. "She can get her tags and papers there. She'll be your responsibility, though. I'm not cleaning up after her."

Mom and Dad burst out laughing for some reason. Geesh. Adults were so weird. Calvin slumped into the armchair parked in front of the TV. Sister? It was hard to think about. He had spent many a Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bomb-fueled weekend as part of the plot to stop the appearance of a rival. Agatha, though... He wouldn't have to deal with a bratty little sister. No-one was going to steal his schtick! Plus--hah! She could do his homework for him! And helping her was worth a billion slots on Santa's naughty list. He could cruise to victory this year for Christmas instead of blowing his fuses over being nice. Hehehehehe. Santa might even pay attention to the appendix Calvin had added to his North Pole letter.

Calvin watched Agatha snuggle up for some fuzz-therapy from Hobbes. She lay with her head on the jungle cat's tummy, drawing in her notebook. Slugs crawled around in Calvin's belly. A sister. A cool sister who didn't freak out over playing Snowman Brain Transplant. A good sister who could take the heat off him. Ooooo. Yeah, they'd have to talk about that. There had to be a minimum mischief level between them. If she was the good little girl all the time, it would be even worse than having Susie as his sis. Blech. Yuck. Don't even think about that. He have Hobbes draw up a contract. The tiger didn't usually work pro-bono, though. Calvin had better get Mom to buy another swordfish steak when she went to the supermarket.

A sister.

"Hey, Calvin," Agatha called out, "want to try the trebuchet?"

This might work out.

++++

Whew. That had gone much better than she had hoped.

She was still going to have a private lecture with her husband on not screwing with her son's mind

Calvin's mother cleaned up the guest bedroom. Agatha had made her own bed, but--

\--Your boy is quite the little scamp. I approve.--

Calvin's mother froze. It had sounded like Vincent Price was whispering out of thin air.

\--Not a scholastic type-- continued the voice --although he's gifted in other ways. Why, if he's this outrageous in his tender years, think of what he'll become when he grows up?--

She backed out of the room.

\--Hee hee. There were many like him in Mechanicsburg. Why, a lad like him would have taken the Jaegerdraught and even survived! I'm so worried about her development. You can relate. It's so difficult to mold the young. Good thing your Calvin has natural talent.--

Coffee. It must have been that fifth cup.

The door slammed shut.

In the corner, hidden by the dresser, Agatha's knapsack chuckled happily to itself.


	7. Chapter 7

"What should I kill and place at her feet?" Hobbes asked. "A girl like that deserves something special. I don't want to be too forward, though."  
  
"Maybe a science book." Calvin taped a square of orange construction paper to a tree trunk. "Putting up warning signs is all wrong. It destroys the purity of the exercise."  
  
"You would think being within ten miles," Hobbes replied, "of your house would be warning enough."  
  
"It's not sporting if they expect it." Calvin fixed up another sign with WARNING, BALLISTIC SCIENCE! IN PROGRESS and a jolly roger symbol written in magic marker.  
  
"You're taking the idea of Agatha becoming your sister," Hobbes said, "much better than I'd have thought. Aren't you afraid she's planning to kill you and take your place?"  
  
"I thought about that," Calvin admitted. "But then I realized it'd be easier for her to brain core a couple without a kid and have her mindless puppets adopt her."  
  
"You put a lot of thought into this."  
  
"It came up last month," Calvin said, "when I thought there was a conspiracy at school to lobotomize us into zombies."  
  
"How many stitches did the class photographer need?" Hobbes asked.  
  
"Thirteen. A new record."  
  
There. Done. Calvin grinned. This was going to be great! Not only because he had a new friend who was willing to push the envelope in snowball delivery systems. Agatha was his key to pushing Dad into the 21st Century. For some reason, Dad didn't acknowledge his son's genius. But Agatha? His good little girl? Why, he would shower her with educational opportunities: a real computer instead of the hunk of junk in Dad's office, an Internet connection, chemistry sets, model rocket kits. It'd be a bonanza! Especially when it came to fireworks and pyrotechnics. Calvin had been wanting to experiment with thermite since forever.  
  
Agatha had set up the actual firing range a hundred yards from a steep hill deep in the woods behind Calvin's house. The trebuchet towered nearly as tall as the trees. The original kid-portable design had morphed into some serious artillery. Scrap lumber taken from abandoned sub-division projects on the other side of the woods had been fixed together with nails, screws, and angle iron. She always seemed to pull out the right tool out of her knapsack. A bucket filled with a huge chunk of ice was the counterweight. A snowball the size of the lower third of a snowman waited for its chance to make history.  
  
Agatha fiddled with the crank gears. She wore her usual green greatcoat and a fur hat with she called an ushanka; her foster family must shop cheap at military surplus stores. She had replaced the Soviet hammer and sickle badge on the front of her hat with a golden trilobite patch. Calvin wondered what that meant. Aside from that, she wasn't especially into dinosaurs. She muttered what had to be a swear word in a foreign language that Calvin noted down for later use. Something squirmed in her gloved hands. The tiny mammoth trumpeted when she jerked it out of the gearing.  
  
"Mimmoths," Agatha said, frowning. "There must be a colony of them around."  
  
"Where do they come from?" Calvin asked, staring at the rat-sized Ice Age survivor.  
  
"They were bred by a Spark in Europa," Agatha explained, tossing the mimmoth over her shoulder, "who wanted smaller versions of Heterodyne war-mammoths."  
  
There was a SNAP-CRUNCH when a pouncing Hobbes caught it in mid-air.  
  
"Those'll go straight to your hips," Calvin told him.  
  
"Tigers stay naturally sleek," Hobbes replied, licking his chops. "It's our superior metabolism. I've never heard of a Spark."  
  
"It's a word my old foster parents used for people like me," Agatha said. "The Heterodynes were the most powerful Sparks in Eastern Europa. It took the Storm King and all the armies of the West to stop my ancestor Bludtharst from crossing over from Transylvania to ravage the rest of the continent."  
  
"You meant they were like Dracula." Calvin grinned. "Are you going to vant to suck my blood?"  
  
"That's a distortion of the real Vlad Dracul. He wasn't a vampire. He only impaled people on wooden spikes."  
  
"I think we found out where Moe gets his genes," Calvin said, sticking out his tongue in disgust. "So your family are some kind of Transylvanian super-villains."  
  
"That's all in the past!" Agatha said. "My real father and my uncle were heroes. I don't take after the Old Heterodynes at all."  
  
Calvin and Hobbes stared up at the siege weapon.  
  
"Hrrrrmph!" Agatha grunted, working the crank to cock back the throwing arm. "Okay. Prepare the first shot."  
  
"The doomthday weapon ith loaded, Mithtreth!" Calvin rolled the giant snowball into the sling and hooked it up.  
  
"Herr Hobbes, is the range clear!"  
  
Hobbes gave a paws-up.  
  
"Warning siren!"  
  
"AROOOOOOOO!" Calvin and Hobbes chorused.  
  
" _Range hot."_ Agatha seized the release lever. _"Let's see what this can do. Five, four, **three, two, ONE--"**_  
  
++++  
  
The huge sphere of ice and snow arched through the air.  
  
*WHUMP*  
  
"Hah! We should set this up at the school during recess!"  
  
It teetered.  
  
Then it rolled back down the hill.  
  
Growing ever larger as it tumbled right at the three figures below.  
  
"Oh dear," Agatha said.  
  
"Oh darn," Hobbes said.  
  
"GET ON THE ESCAPE SLED!" Calvin yelled.  
  
++++  
  
"PADDLE FASTER, HOBBES!" Calvin screamed.  
  
"I'M GOING AS FAST AS I CAN!" The tiger's forelegs pinwheeled as he clawed at the snow rushing past the sled's runners.  
  
"We can't lose it!" Agatha said. "I don't understand. This is completely atypical for an inanimate object that wasn't designed with a guidance system."  
  
"I do!" Calvin said. "It's the soul of the dead mimmoth who's fused with a snow demon! It's become a deranged mutant snow goon ball of hideous death! It'll track us down wherever we go!"  
  
"That doesn't sound very likely--"  
  
"No, really, I have experience with this."  
  
++++  
  
Susie read the sign taped to the tree trunk. Hmmmph. It figured. Calvin was up to his usual crazy tricks. Well, she wasn't going to be caught up in his nuttiness. The past week had been paradise. The new girl seemed to be distracting Calvin. No snowball ambushes. No talk about slugs in gravy as the school lunch option. No weirdness of any kind. She should invited Agatha over to play tea party tomorrow. The girl deserved all the cookies in the world for putting her life on the line by sticking around Calvin.  
  
So peaceful. The snow was like a blanket, covering the earth.  
  
Susie closed her eyes and listened to the soft rumble.  
  
...rumble?  
  
++++  
  
"MEIN GOTT!" Agatha struggled against Calvin's bear hug. "Our pursuer ran right over that poor girl!"  
  
"Don't let her sacrifice be in vain!" Calvin said. "Maybe it'll be satisfied with devouring her soul."  
  
"Ach, that won't work!" Agatha seized the steering rope. "This is ridiculous. This way!"  
  
"It's huff harder huff," Hobbes wheezed, "to claw huff uphlll--"  
  
"The slope should bleed off the verdammte thing's velocity," Agatha explained. "We should be able to outrun it."  
  
"Hah! Take that, snow goon!" Calvin stuck thumbs in this hear and waggled "moose antlers" at the boulder. "See that? You can't outsmart humans, the big dumb stupid...uh.."  
  
Hobbe's claws stopped tearing into snow. They swished through thin air instead.  
  
"What was the name of the cliff we just went off of?" Agatha said, wiping snow off her glasses.  
  
"Suicide Leap," Calvin said. "It looks out over Death Gulch."  
  
"Good to know," Agatha said, right before gravity took hold.  
  
Five seconds later, the boulder followed them.  
  
+++  
  
"They've been out a while," Calvin's mother said.  
  
"Should I go out and look for the kid?" Calvin's dad asked.  
  
"No, I think I see them." Calvin's mother grabbed three cups of cocoa waiting on the kitchen counter. "Had fun--AWWWWGH! What happened to you?"  
  
"Calvin tried to kill me!" Susie said, covered from head to toe in snow. Her teeth chattered.  
  
"Not deliberately!" Calvin retorted, dragging in the twisted wreckage of his sled. "And I gave you mouth to mouth after we landed in the gulch! You owe me. I'm gonna have to gargle with napalm for a month to get the taste out of my mouth."  
  
"We had a slight miscalculation on the firing range." Agatha shook ice shards out of her ushanka. "Oh! Hot chocolate. Danke!"  
  
"I tink I'b gettinb a cobe," Susie sniffled.  
  
"Great!" Calvin stuck his face in front of hers. "Land a huge sneeze on me! Sick days off from school, here I come!"  
  
"All of you!" Calvin's mother shouted. "Get off those wet clothes! And you're going to explain to me how this happened."  
  
Calvin's father sipped his coffee as his wife marched three sodden kids and a stuffed tiger out of the kitchen.  
  
"Honestly," he said under his breath, "I just live here." 


	8. Chapter 8

Children shrieked. A mother cajoled her charges. A man downstairs sighed, put on boots and coat, and went out to see what his son had been up to.  
  
On the floor above him, something made a decision.  
  
A flap popped open. Dozens of tiny round forms scurried into the darkened room. Unblinking eyes watched the closed door as the window was eased open. Rotors and wings popped out of brass casings. Hidden by the darkness of a winter afternoon, the swarm flew over the man trudging through the woods below. A few descended to create minor distractions: snow falling off a branch or a deadfall moved to block a path. The rest congregated on Her work.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, the man stared quizzically at the bits and pieces of wreckage in the snow. This was what had caused all the problem? Some spare wood, an axle pin-- Right. That medieval warfare special on PBS a week ago. That explained it all. He sighed as he carried the evidence back to the house. His judgement would have changed if he had dug a few centimeters beneath the snow, or looked in the underbrush to the side of the firing range.  
  
The swarm flew back to its home.  
  
At least this time they didn't have to deal with bloodstains.  
  
++++  
  
Spaceman Spiff languished in the dread dungeon of the disgusting Droods! Hah! They wouldn't make him talk. In fact, he welcomed their interrogation. It would give him the chance to escape their clutches and rescue Science Corps Cadet Agatha. Together they would activate the captured HyperGalactic Trebuchet as a distraction. Then it would a clear run through the exploding Drood base to his saucer. Another spectacular mission ending in triumph for Spaceman Spiff and his new girl sidekick.  
  
The cell door creaked open. Spiff tested the manacles pinning his wrists behind him. As if such risible restraints could stupefy Spaceman Spiff. The insectile Drood warrior prodded him with its electro-staff down the stairs to the great chamber where the HyperGalactic Trebuchet stood. Her silver uniform ripped and tattered, Agatha knelt in a collar whose chain was clutched in the claws of the Four-Eyed Drood Emperor. He gritted his teeth. He would not give up the activation codes. Let them do their worst. No one could conquer him!  
  
That was weird. The prototype seemed smaller than he remembered it.  
  
"We did take all precautions," Agatha said to Dad, holding what looked like the original version of the trebuchet. "Although I should have built up a berm to stop rebounds. Or possessed snow goon balls of death."  
  
"Not those again," Dad said. "Did it occur to you that playing around with catapults--"  
  
"Counter-weight trebuchets," Agatha said. "Most catapults are torsion powered."  
  
"--playing around with these is dangerous?" Mom finished.  
  
"That's why we put up the signs," Agatha said, "and set it up far away from inhabited areas."  
  
"It's not like we ever had a chance to--" Calvin laughed weakly. "I mean, ever planned to use it on Susie or anyone else."  
  
"That would be instant death," Dad said.  
  
"We're giving you credit for the safety measures," Mom said. "So you're only losing TV privileges tonight and going right up to bed after dinner."  
  
"Tomorrow we're all going to put," Dad added, "your new engineering hobby to use rebuilding your sled. I'm not buying you a new one."  
  
Curses. An ordeal of family togetherness.  
  
"I have some conceptual sketches," Agatha said.  
  
...which might not be that bad, after all.  
  
Calvin stared at the not-wreck of the trebuchet as his dad carried out the back door to the junk pile. No way. She couldn't have. The real one had been huge! If his dad had seen that, he would have blown every capillary in his body. Agatha had been locked in the guest bedroom like he had been sent to his own room. There was no possible way she could have snuck out and took apart their project before Dad found it. Somehow, she had done it. She didn't look at all guilty while she helped Mom set the table. She was sweet and a little guilty and really helpful. Only for a single second he looked at her across the table as they were setting out the glasses.  
  
It was an act.  
  
A little chill that was having a few tons of snow goon death ball land on top of him went through Calvin. Agatha hadn't seemed like she had a dishonest bone in her body. Oh, she hadn't told Mom and Dad about what they were doing in the woods. But that was basic don't ask, don't tell. This and the stunt she had pulled at breakfast was flat-out sneakiness. Which was pretty cool. But also pretty worrying. It meant the chances of him fooling her into doing his will went down to zero. That really upset the natural sibling order.  
  
He was so distracted that he was really off through dinner. He only made a few lame jokes about the goulash being made from real ghouls. It even got a half-laugh out of Mom. He had already taken a bath to warm up from the sleigh ride of doom. All that was left before hard time in bed was changing into pajamas and brushing his teeth. Agatha joined him while his mouth was full of foam. No sign she was anything more than the Good Girl. Calvin smirked through the toothpaste lather. Oh, yeah. He had a companion in arms. This was even better than a girl sidekick.  
  
Agatha followed him into his room. Bedtime didn't mean lights-out. She dragged her knapsack with her. It was a huge thing: a big army-style pack with all sorts of flaps and pockets sewn onto it. Grunting, she dumped it beside his dresser. Hobbes was already in bed. He crawled over and laid his head in her lap while she scritched behind his ears. The big softy arched and showed his mandibles of death. Too bad he hadn't eaten that loudmouth Susie while he had had the chance. Argh. Calvin couldn't believe his lips had touched hers. He had thought she was Agatha before the horrible truth had come out.  
  
"How did you do it?" Calvin said.  
  
"I traveled with a circus for a while," Agatha said. "A wise man there said a good magician never reveals how a trick was done."  
  
Agatha cackled. Uh. Giggled. That had to be a giggle.  
  
"An evil one doesn't leave behind any evidence there was a trick in the first place."  
  
"He must have been trained by a tiger," Hobbes said, doing cat-yoga until he lay paws up.  
  
"Fine, be that way." Calvin crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't tell. I hope you don't think we're going to do anything girly like paint our nails or anything."  
  
"That reminds me," Agatha said. "I invited over Susie Derkins to play tomorrow--"  
  
"You WHAT?" Calvin pounded the bedspread with both fists. "How could you do that? There goes Sunday."  
  
"We owe her," Agatha said. "And I've heard her in class. She's very smart. You should give her a chance."  
  
"I give her a running start." Calvin turned his head away. "You want to play house with her, be my guest."  
  
"Susie? Coming here?" Hobbes said. "Do you think she'll flip over my waxed moustache?"  
  
"Why do I hang around with you, oatmeal head?" Calvin asked.  
  
"It'll only be for a couple of hours," Agatha promised. "So, what do you want to do before we have to go to sleep?"  
  
"I dunno," Calvin said. "Dad usually tells stories. But unless he reads _Hamster Huey,_ they're pretty lame. I have to edit out the romance and moral every time."  
  
"I knew a few," Agatha said. "I know! Christmas is coming up. Have you heard of Blank Peter?"  
  
"Never hear of him."  
  
"Well, Blank Peter is a construct who carries Santa's bag every Christmas Eve--"  
  
+++  
  
"Look, they're telling each other stories," Calvin's mother said. "This will work out."  
  
"Calvin's caught up in this one," Calvin's father said. "I wonder what she's telling him?"  
  
"--and the naughty little boy ran and ran," Agatha said, "all through Santa's workshop. He had to find a place to hide. He stopped at a closet door in the very back. He could hide there! But do you know what he found?"  
  
"W-hat?" Calvin clutched his stuffed tiger to him.  
  
"Arms and legs and heads and torsos," Agatha said, leaning forward, "all in preserving jars. And Santa caught the naughty little boy before he could run. 'Ho ho ho, don't you know? Blank Peter wears out every Christmas. That's why he brings back the naughtiest boys and girls...so I can sew a new one'."  
  
Agatha bared her teeth.  
  
"And the next Christmas Eve _there was a new Blank Peter, wearing the naughty boy's face. And if you're a naughty little boy like him, next year, **he could be wearing yours.**_ "  
  
"AAAAAAWGGGHHHHHH! MOOOOOOOOOM! TELL SANTA I'M GOOD!"  
  
"This is even better," Calvin's father said, "than the Dismembered Hand That Strangled Everybody."  
  
"Someone's getting some coal in his stocking this year," his wife said.  
  
"So you're going in to tell him Blank Peter doesn't exist?"  
  
His wife paused. Then closed the door. 


	9. Chapter 9

"The clockwork shoes were locked onto the evil queen," Agatha said. "They forced her to dance and dance, while the internal bellows fanned the boilers, roasting her alive. Then the seven homonuculi flayed and tanned her, and used her skin to make themselves beautiful. They and Snow White and her handsome Spark lived happily ever after"  
  
Hobbes coughed into a paw.  
  
"And as a popular crime control measure," Agatha continued, "Snow White invited tigers to live in her palace and tossed criminals into a pit to be messily devoured."  
  
"I love happy endings," Hobbes said, wiping her eyes with the bedsheet.  
  
"Oh, is it bed time?" Agatha asked Calvin's mother, who stood by the door. "I was so lost in telling fairy tales that I didn't realize it was so late."  
  
"That's a very, um, interesting take on Snow White," Calvin's mother said. "Did your foster mother tell you it that way?"  
  
"I may have added the bit about tigers," Agatha said, sotto voce, "for Hobbes. But my--first, real, um, Lilith--she used to read me that from the _Kindermarchen_."  
  
"See? Dad leaves out the good stuff!" Calvin said. "Like the cannibalism where the queen thinks she's eating Snow White's heart and --"  
  
"Story Corner is over," Calvin's mother said very firmly. "Time to sleep. If you even can sleep. Back to your room, Agatha."  
  
"Hobbes wants her to sleep with us tonight," Calvin said, pulling the covers over his stuffed tiger. "It'll be like a camp-out."  
  
"You and--" Calvin's mother shook her head. "I guess that's not too inappropriate."  
  
"Hobbes is a complete gentlecat," Agatha said, rummaging through her knapsack.  
  
"Oooo, look, Agatha sleeps with a doll," Calvin sing-songed.  
  
"This is Mr. Tock." Agatha said, climbing back into bed. "He keeps me safe."  
  
"Night, night." Calvin's mother kissed him and ruffled Agatha's hair. "You have five minutes of whispering together before I come back and really make sure you're going to bed."  
  
"Night, Mom!"  
  
*CLICK*  
  
++++  
  
There were not a lot of things much better than dozing in a warm bed on a winter night. It wasn't as perfect as if it were a Friday. Tomorrow was the last free day before school started, so there was disappointment right there. It was still good, though. The blankets were toasty. The pillows were soft. His best bud curled up against him. Even Agatha sleeping on the other side wasn't a disastrous cootie infestation. It somehow made it cozier. She was kind of--Calvin still shuddered--cute, with her doll lying beside her. Pretty neat, really, if weird design: a robot with a flat black hat that he had seen in Mom and Dad's graduation pictures, a tubby armored body, and a clock in the center of its chest.  
  
He sort of wondered what it might be like if Hobbes hadn't been between them. It made him feel funny down there.  
  
Uh, no. That was because of that bottle of soda he'd snuck into his room after dinner.  
  
Muttering, Calvin eased out of bed for the trip down the hall.  
  
Something licked the sole of his foot. Calvin dove under the covers before whatever hideous appendage could snap tight around his ankle. ARRRGH! He huddled beneath the blankets while the lip smacking and evil laughter came from underneath the bed. Of course They would be awake. They always were. Waiting, plotting, smacking toothy maws over what they would do to stupid little boys who got out of bed at night. Calvin frantically searched for his flashlight. It was his only defense. Rats! He had left it across the room on his desk. That meant he had to leap past their reach, then try to jump back into bed before they could nab him.  
  
"Monsters?" Hobbes had the covers pulled up under his chin.  
  
"Monsters under the bed," Calvin confirmed. "I hate those things."  
  
"Where?" Agatha asked, rubbing her eyes.  
  
"Down there." Calvin risked leaning over the edge. "See, in the dark? You can see it right between where the blanket hangs up the floor. They can reach out and SCHLORP, you're a goner."  
  
"Hey, kid, come on down." Laughter came from the under the mattress. "Bring your girlfriend. She looks deliciou--cute. Very cute."  
  
"Even less subtle than Jaegers," Agatha snorted.  
  
"Now I won't get back to sleep," Hobbes said. "And I had this great dream too, where I was chasing an impala and it was right at the part where I pounced--"  
  
"Maybe I should take my chance with them," Calvin said.  
  
"Maybe you should." Hobbes stuck out his tongue.  
  
"I kind of have to." Calvin squirmed. "If I don't, it'll be pretty, um, damp around here."  
  
"You stay in your corner!" Hobbes bristled.  
  
"This isn't solving anything," Agatha said.  
  
"So what should we do?" Calvin asked. "They're not going anywhere."  
  
"That's easy. We do what you do to any monster."  
  
Agatha tugged a zipper in the back of Mr. Tock.  
  
_"Slay them."_  
  
At that, Agatha pulled a death ray out of her doll. A finned barrel came out of three frosted globes with a pistol grip and trigger at the back. Calvin and Hobbes backed away when Agatha flicked a switch. Pale blue light filled the room, and it smelled like a thunderstorm. Out came two strange looking swords. Sharp steel glittered in the moonlight streaming through the window when she half-pulled them out of their scabbards. One was a slim, double-edged blade. The other was forked like a snake's tongue. Agatha wrapped straps over her shoulders, slinging them on her back. Finally, she took out a huge wrench that she smacked in the palm of her hand.  
  
Agatha motioned them close. Calvin nearly lost it right there when she told him her plan. Hobbes' tail poofed out in shock. She was nuts! Agatha didn't wait for any objections. She unscrewed the clock from the middle of Mr. Tock's chest. Setting the dials, she jerked out a knob in the back of the case. The ticking sounded very threatening. She dangled her doll down to the terrible gap where danger was greatest. Silence. One second. Two. Three-- A tentacle whipped out. She whipped Mr. Tock out of danger and tossed the clock under the bed in one smooth motion.  
  
A second later, the explosion lifted the bed four inches off the floor Calvin was tossed to other side of the bed, where it touched the wall. Agatha was already backflipping off the bed. The death ray fired the second her feet touched the ground. Inhuman screams came from the monsters' lair when the electric-blue ray shot into the dark. He covered his eyes watching through barely-spread fingers while Agatha dodged flailing tentacles. They weren't just going to eat her for this! They were going to slowly torture her for eons for this! They'd--  
  
A slimy, ropey limb snatched Agatha and pulled her under.  
  
\--they weren't going to hurt his sister.  
  
Calvin leaped for the closet for one of the calvinball croquet mallets.  
  
Snarling, Hobbes dove beneath the bed followed by Calvin.  
  
All was quiet in the bedroom.  
  
Lightning flashes through the blankets concealing the darkness under the bed. Eldritch shrieks and war-cries echoed out from the dread realm. There was the sickening sound of a knife cutting into rubber. A feral cat's scream rose above the pandemonium. The bed bucked like a ship in a hurricane. Suddenly, something darker than shadow shot out. Flailing tentacles caught the blanket and pulled it down over the beast. Three figure landed on it. A wrench, a croquet mallet, and a furious tiger pounded and tore at the wailing creature beneath the cloth.  
  
"Is it dead?" Calvin slammed the croquet mallet several times.  
  
"I think it is." Agatha lifted up the blanket a little. "Great. Not even enough for dissection purposes."  
  
"Phoooey!" Hobbes hacked up several times. "Does anyone have some mouthwash?"  
  
"Here. Have some tuna." Agatha fetched a can and a Swiss Army knife from her knapsack.  
  
"We did it." Calvin planted a foot upon his foe. "HAH! Take that, monster scum! You're not so tough!"  
  
The monster under the bed reared up and exposed its true form.  
  
BZZZZZAPPPP  
  
"Now it's dead," Agatha said, waving away the smoke. "You can go, Calvin."  
  
"Already did," Calvin said, in a very small voice.  
  
"Do you have any spikes around?" Agatha asked.  
  
"There's the pup tent pegs in the closet," Hobbes said between bites of flaked fish.  
  
"Great. This one's useless," Agatha said, "but there's enough of them intact back there that we can impale a few heads as a warning to others."  
  
Outside a door slammed open.  
  
"Dad!" Calvin gasped. "Hide those weapons!"  
  
"On it!" Agatha said, quickly stuffing her armory into Mr. Tock.  
  
"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" The bedroom door burst open. Calvin's father stomped in. "YOU HAD BETTER NOT BE-- Gahh! What is that? Something under your bed is oozing." 


	10. Chapter 10

What had they done, thrown a bomb under the bed?  
  
Calvin's mother breathed through her mouth while her husband picked up whatever it was that had been under her son's bed. The only explanation he could come up with was a ball of snakes that had decided to hibernate for the winter. She didn't think that you could identify what they had really been even if she took samples to the zoo. Amazing what two scared kids with a wrench and a croquet mallet could do. She swore some bits were either sliced up or melted.  
  
Her husband held the garbage bag containing the remains at arm's length. That one was going right outside. It could stay there until the truck came during the week. Sighing, Calvin's mother went to work with a mop and bucket. Her kid could create the most amazing messes. She didn't blame him for this one, though. Poor guy must have been terrified. The blood and guts needed several passes to clean off. She wasn't sure whether to pour it down the toilet or call the EPA. The weird mark on the floor beside the bed wouldn't go away. You'd almost think it was a scorch mark.  
  
"They're napping on the couch downstairs," her husband said, coming back into Calvin's bedroom. "You were right. Warm chocolate milk put them right out."  
  
"The secret weapon to dealing with wired-up kids," she replied.  
  
"I also laced the Bosco with vodka," he said.  
  
"Do you want a face-full of mop, buster?" she asked, brandishing it. "Grab a can of Lysol."  
  
"Now it smells like fresh-scented whale vomit," Calvin's father said, wielding the air-freshener in broad strokes. "They won't be sleeping here tonight."  
  
"Leave them where they are," Calvin's mother said. Her own spray can emptied its last contents into the fouled air. "I'll crack open a window and stuff a towel under the door."  
  
"I can't believe we're setting ourselves up for another helping of this," her husband groused.  
  
"Agatha's more of a handful than I expected," she admitted. "I shouldn't be surprised. From what I can tell, she's Romanian. I've seen news reports on their orphanages. They're terrible."  
  
"She's educated," he said. "You don't pick up technical skills like hers from an Eastern European orphanage."  
  
"She suffered some major trauma," she said. "We'll have to deal with that, too."  
  
"We have to think of what's best," he said. "She can fix the plumbing the next time Calvin decides to flood the house. And if he convinces her to do his homework, at least he'll have decent grades."  
  
"Don't you mean 'what's best for her'?" she asked, eyes narrowing.  
  
"I'm already thinking of legal representation," he said hurriedly. "That coffee maker she created could be patented. I know people in industry who would kill for a product like that. She'll need a financial manager, a lawyer--"  
  
"I'm not comfortable profiting off a foster child," she said.  
  
"It would all be held in trust," he explained. "She'll need it for where she should be going. A mind like hers need to go to MIT or CalTech."  
  
"That's the reason I married you," she said, taking him in her arms.  
  
"Thought it was because you said I'd kill myself," he said, kissing her, "eating frozen waffles for dinner every night?"  
  
"That too." Calvin's mother kissed him back...and then sniffed. "Honey, let's get out of here."  
  
"I know. My sinuses are melting too."  
  
Her husband took the mop and bucket. She took the stained blanket that Calvin and Agatha had beaten into submission. Luckily there were only a few small rips she could sew up. The real damage was the nasty-smelling stains. Yet another 1 AM laundry run. She'd toss in Calvin's first set of pajamas, too. She hoped that loss of control wasn't going to happen again. Dealing with rubber sheets wasn't what she needed at this stage of motherhood. At least they wouldn't be woken up to chase away monsters under the bed.  
  
Calvin's mother paused at the foot of the stairs. Calvin, Agatha, and his toy tiger were bundled up together under an afghan on the couch. Two monster-slayers sleeping the sleep of the just. It was just a little bit disturbing to see the huge monkey wrench sticking out under the throw pillow. It was another sign that whatever Agatha had been through had made her wary. The way she carried her knapsack everywhere pointed to a child who expected to move on to another place at a moment's notice.  
  
Well, that would change.  
  
She yawned as she headed into the basement. Calvin's wrecked sled was on her husband's workbench at the far end. It held the workshop where he tackled big projects, like fixing their canoe, that he couldn't work on in the garage. She noticed he had taped one of Agatha's drawings on a clear spot of wall. For a moment, she was transfixed by what the girl had envisioned: a massive airship that would have dwarfed the old zeppelins, if the blimps buzzing around it were to scale. It was if one part of her head lived in the early 20th century.  
  
She set the washer cycle temperature to hot-cold. Nothing else would get out these stains. She splashed on stain remover and a cap's worth of liquid detergent in the washer to be sure. Calvin's mother slumped down in a bridge chair in one corner. Honestly, she was too tired to head to bed only to have to come down again. She'd doze here until the buzzer sounded. Tipping her head back, she drifted off listening to water sloshing.  
  
\--I do understand. Raising children can be a challenge. That can be such, hee, hellions.--  
  
"Who's that?" she murmured, head falling forward.  
  
\--Oh, I'm the voice in your head. You've finally cracked under your son's campaign to drive you insane. Don't worry about it. After all, we're all mad here.--  
  
"Mmmm." Calvin's mother slumped down. "Guess Derkins won the pool."  
  
\--One must admire your spirit. You're raising the lad without those useful iron cages at hand..--  
  
"Know where I can *snrk* find some?"  
  
\--Having access to this delightful Internet invention, I can do that and more. Including a stunning leather ensemble you'd be smashing in.--  
  
"Have to mmmm hire Rosalyn again. Been 'while since we went out."  
  
\--Oh, I'll be happy to offer my babysitting services. You're come at the right time, after all. My Heterodyne needs a stable nest--rather like a cuckoo--to rest in. I might have kept her moving to develop her inner bitterness against the universe. But one must take the long view.--  
  
"...misses her family..."  
  
\--Yes. She cleaves to those she cares for. They've always been that way, to those who've served them. One of the few positive (such a hateful word) traits of the family. Although my Heterodyne is distressingly heroic. Ah well. One must bid one's time for the future.--  
  
"...tough kid..."  
  
\--Isn't she? Such a wonderful performance of savagery in combat earlier. It give me hope."  
  
Calvin's mother snored.  
  
\--I do commend you on your bravery, by the by. Because as the caregiver to a Heterodyne, you'll need it. Heee.-- 


	11. Chapter 11

Calvin examined the blueprints with a critical eye.  
  
"We don’t need any of this." Calvin x'ed out several of her changes with a red crayon.  
  
"You just rejected the steering, the collision-avoidance radar," Agatha said, "and the roll cage."  
  
"I liked the ejection seats myself," Hobbes said.  
  
"We can keep those in," Calvin mused. "But the rest of it was dead weight. You don't want safe in a sled. It kills the fun."  
  
"Steering is the bane of fun?" Agatha asked.  
  
"It's boy--"  
  
Hobbes coughed.  
  
"--and tiger against gravity and the terrain," Calvin said. "Heck, I like toboggans better than runner sleds. You get this blinding spray of snow up front from a toboggan that sends the driver into a whiteout."  
  
"This reminds me a lot of Gil and his landings," Agatha said. She picked up the altered blueprints. "I notice you are keeping the siren, the lights, and the weapons racks."  
  
"How else are we going to strike terror in the hearts of men?" Calvin asked.  
  
"Getting on the sled with you," Hobbes said.  
  
"Maybe we can over-improve the steering." A certain gleam entered her eyes. " _Yes. Make the steering so sensitive that the slightest touch will send it careening in completely random tangents_."  
  
"Did I mention I liked the ejection seats?" Hobbes said.  
  
"I bet you could get the ejection-rockets powerful enough," Calvin said, rubbing his hands together, "that our spines will go wheeze-wheeze-wheeze like accordions."  
  
" _\--and with some polishing and adjustment of runner edges,_ " Agatha continued, " _the coeffcient of friction can be reduced to almost nil. And with this structural reinforcement, this sled will survive extreme impacts._ "  
  
"What about us?" Hobbes asked.  
  
"One thing at a time!" Calvin and Agatha said at the same time.  
  
Hobbes sighed.  
  
+++++  
  
His sister had freaky superpowers.  
  
The time dilation didn't count. The way that working with her packed several hours into one was normal. Time was elastic. Classes lasted for an eternity; a nice day never lasted as long as the clock said it was; summer vacations could either last for a lifetime or pass in an eyeblink. Neither did Agatha's ability to fold her work into the sled so that it looked normal unless you squinted just right. When your homework was interrupted by gravity reversals, you learned that physics was pretty random when you got down to it. The dice were always rolling in the universe no matter what Einstein had said.  
  
What was nuts was how she was getting boring old Dad who had crazy ideas that kids were not allowed to play with flamethrowers _to go along with it_. Dad was right there handing her parts while she used a welding torch. Actually, Calvin was sure that his dad hadn't had a welding rig. Dad had been pretty loud about not allowing one in the house in spite of Calvin's entirely reasonable arguments. Agatha must have stashed it in her bottomless knapsack. If he had pulled one out, Dad would have locked it away so fast that he would have broken the sound barrier. But he was smiling at Agatha proudly while she violated every stupid safety rule about kids and highly-flammable substances his dad had.  
  
He wasn't jealous. At all.  
  
Rassafrassing girls, getting away with murder.  
  
Calvin shook his head. Agatha might be rebuilding the sled from the atomic level. But he was doing the really important job. With a hiss, he sprayed paint from a hose onto one of the jet-thrusters. The paint-sprayer that Agatha had knocked up out of a busted hairdryer and a garden hose splashed bright orange on the masked-off part. Calvin grinned behind the gas mask she had taken out of her backpack. This was the true artist at work. Every kid in the neighborhood was going to drool over the flames along the thrusters. That was nothing compared to the saber-toothed tiger's face he had painted on the front cowling. Susie was going to run screaming when he chased her with that. Calvin snickered at that.  
  
\--The sound of the young plotting villainy.-- The dry, raspy voice came from behind him. --How it brings back times when the nursery was full.--  
  
Calvin whirled around.  
  
Nothing was behind him except the knapsack.  
  
Hunching over, Calvin stared at it.  
  
\--Why hello there, young lad.-- The cloth on the front shifted until a suggestion of a face looked back at him. --I believe it was time we were introduced.--  
  
"Demon!" Falling over backwards, Calvin pointed an accusing finger at it. "She feeds the souls every family she stays with in gruesome blood sacrifices for her powers!"  
  
\--If only.-- The knapsack sighed. --I do miss those quaint religious ceremonies in the Red Cathedral. No, I have a power source that does not require human souls.--  
  
"That's disappointing." Calvin edged away from it even so. "Wha--what are you?"  
  
\--I? I am...CASTLE HETERODYNE!--  
  
"I hate to break it to you," Calvin said. "But castles have walls and battlements and dungeons where you send people who force you to eat spinach to suffer dire torment."  
  
\--There are certain technical difficulties, yes.-- The knapsack sighed. "This is so much less satisfying than being a yurt. However, I am indeed the ancestral fortress of the House of Heterodyne even in this reduced state.--  
  
"Agatha actually has a castle?" Calvin frowned. "Wait, if she does, then why is she going to school here?"  
  
\--BECAUSE EVERYTHING IS WRONG!-- Castle Heterodyne roared.  
  
"Shhh, Dad will hear you," Calvin hissed.  
  
\--Your father is too lost in her madness place.-- Castle Heterodyne deflated like a balloon. --When we awoke in this world, the Heterodynes never existed. My mistress is utterly alone, with only myself to care for her.--  
  
“She lives with people,” Calvin said uncertainly. “She mentioned a foster mom and dad.”  
  
\--Had.-- The Castle growled. --Her last placement was less than appropriate. Steps were taken.--  
  
Calvin gulped at how the Castle had said it. It was, uh, final.  
  
\--All that exists of the greatest of Spark houses is her.-- Castle Heterodyne sounded sad. --You willingly joined in her defense.--  
  
"Of course. She's going to be my sister," Calvin said. "That would be like leaving Hobbes out to dry."  
  
\---Would you swear upon all you hold most dear to defend my mistress and her house?--  
  
"I swear on my Captain Napalm collection," Calvin said. "I swear upon the defiance of bedtimes and baths. I swear by my friendship with Hobbes."  
  
\--It is not the Jaegertroth.-- A flap on the side opened. --It will do.--  
  
Calvin hesitated before slipping his fingers into the side-pocket. Teeth failed to shorten them by a few knuckles. He drew out a thin, strong chain with a Heterodyne golden trilobite dangling from it. Hmmmph. No death ray? He was some sort of secret agent now. He should at least get some sort of blaster so he could liquefy people. The trilobite weighed heavy in his palm. Calvin's throat went dry. This wasn't becoming Stupendous Man, mighty defender of the right. This wasn't Spaceman Spiff blasting through the cosmos to escape math class. This wasn't playing around.  
  
Two paws took the ends of the chain before snapping them shut behind Calvin's neck.  
  
Hobbes winked at him with a trilobite badge sewn into the base of his throat.  
  
Calvin grinned. He wouldn't be doing this alone.  
  
The chain was tight enough that he could only get a finger and a half between it and his neck. It was almost as bad as a necktie. At least it wasn't pointless like the noose his parents forced on him for fancy times. He and Hobbes carried over the painted pieces to Dad's workbench. Dad was sitting in a camp chair with a confused look on his face. The Castle had said something about a "madness place", That must be the name for her freaky superpowers. Weird name for it. Nothing was crazy about Agatha when he worked with her. She was humming that tune she always did when working. It wound down as the last pieces were bolted into place. Then she turned to him and Calvin knew it was right and she smiled when she saw the badges and it was like a hole in him as big as the one Hobbes had filled which had been so empty when the dog had snatched him was filled forever and ever.  
  
“Mithtress,” Calvin bowed.  
  
Agatha’s smile was brighter than the sun.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Calvin's mother peered down the basement stairs. By now, she had a rough sense of when her son was about to go **sproing** after too much time with her husband. The time limit was always dangerously reduced when his father was trying to teach him values. Her husband might be keeping his mouth shut about the value of hard work. Calvin could have managed to turn himself good with that cardboard box of his. Either way, Calvin seemed to be playing along with it without drifting off to let his father do all the work after a dramatic argument.  
  
She turned back to the stove where the cookies were baking. Agatha had written out a recipe for "gingerbread trilobites" that was a bit heavier on the sugar and butter than she usually allowed. One sniff told her that she'd have to lock down the cookie jar for everyone, not just her son. Calvin's mother checked left and right before popping one into her mouth. Mmmm. Her eyes rolled back in their sockets in ecstasy even as her mouth burned a little from taste-testing one too soon. Some coffee from Agatha's invention soothed some of the ache.  
  
She yelped when hands grabbed her by the hips. Spun about, she had no chance to protest when her husband locked lips from her. The part of her that always monitored for six-year-old walking disasters checked the door to the basement while the rest of her dealt with her husband eager on reliving the night after their senior prom. Her toes curled in her sensible shoes--sneakers, the better for traction when chasing her son--when he husband's hand slipped where it hadn't gone for a long time. Only the sound of Agatha's odd, atonal hum coming from below let her gather herself enough to push him back.  
  
"Whoa, buster, they're right down there!" Calvin's mother protested.  
  
"We can be quiet." Calvin's father waggled his eyebrows. "Just like the day in the closet when your mom got home earlier than we thought."  
  
"Hey! We aren't in college." Laughing, she wriggled out of his embrace. "What's gotten into you?"  
  
"Working with Agatha has that effect." Her husband wiped off his steamed-up glasses with a shirt-tail. "I haven't enjoyed myself this much since the Patterson case. Or that time in the closet."  
  
"What did she create down here?" She tried to gaze down until her husband whirled her back into his arms.  
  
"Not sure. Don't care." Her husband kissed her. "I locked down all the power tools before I came up. Get them out of the house to play with their sled. We'll have the place all to our own."  
  
"It's pretty snowy out there--" She looked out of the window at a mild storm.  
  
"Bracing outdoor walks are good for young bodies." He then whispered something they could do with their own they hadn't even considered in six years.  
  
"Upstairs, pal," she panted out.  
  
"Don't keep me waiting!"  
  
She had to splash some cold water from the sink to before dashing to the front hall closet. Some residual maternal instinct had her check to see if her greatcoat and her son's jacket had dried out. She really couldn't shove them out of the house in damp coats. A risk-assessment skewed a bit by images of a husband's body that was really fit from cycling and canoeing deemed them dry enough. It had been an eternity since she had thought of him that way. Usually they were just too worn out to do more than hug each other in comfort over whatever had happened that day.  
  
Coats, scarves, mittens, hats, boots: everything needed to keep them warm on the walk over to the Derkins. Let's not forget Hobbes's scarf. Hobbes never left the house without it. Poor little Susan had come down with the sniffles. Poor little Susan was going to be hosting a tea party or playing Monopoly or even rotting her brains out with Calvin before the television while her husband was in the mood. Calvin's mother juggled the heap of clothing in her arms as she navigated the narrow stairs leading to the basement.  
  
Agatha's humming echoed off the walls. One eyebrow quirked upwards when she spotted her doing...something to a broken rocking horse. All four legs were twisted off from the impact after an experiment last year involving bungie cords and a pair of less-than-aerodynamic wings. Calvin was by her side handing her bits and pieces from that tbackpack of hers. Calvin's mother rapidly processed the gaping mouth and affected hunchback. They were doing that mad scientist and minion game. She winced. Great--more games of "Operation" and food-testing. Oh well, at least he would be actually eating dinner instead of spreading it around the room. Agatha popped open a hatch on the side of the horse--  
  
\--wait, when had there been a hatch--  
  
\--and fiddled with wheels and cogs and gear and it made her head spin--  
  
"AGGHHHH!" Her foot caught on an orange-and-black striped toy. Clothing flew in the air. "Calvin, don't leave your stuffed tiger on the stairs."  
  
"Hey, Hobbes, did she step on your tail?" Calvin picked up the fuzzy little hazard.  
  
"An excellent opportunity to implant the spring in it," Agatha announced.  
  
"You can play doctor with him later." Calvin's mother picked a boot off her head. "Why don't you try out the sled for a while? Then you can head over to Susan's with some of your gingerbread cookies. She's a little too sick to come over today."  
  
"Second chance at a sick day, here I come!" Calvin said.  
  
"I learned a little pick-me up from the Countess that can help," Agatha said.  
  
"Part of your princess' court?" Calvin's mother asked.  
  
"No." Agatha rubbed her head. "She was...with a circus? I think."  
  
"Mom, Agatha isn't a princess." Calvin grinned toothily. "She's the Heterodyne. Heterodynes eat pretty princesses."  
  
"I guess that makes you and Hobbes her evil knights," Calvin's mother said, noticing what was at the neck of her son and his stuffed playmate.  
  
"Better. We're monsters sworn to House Heterodyne." Calvin snarled. "Und ve tok like dis, sveethot."  
  
"Monsters or no, you are my companions in adventure," Agatha said.  
  
"Along with Mr. Tock," Calvin's mother said. "Just like Hobbes."  
  
"Um, Mrs. Watterson, Mr. Tock is a doll," Agatha said slowly. "Hobbes is a tiger."  
  
"It must be the knock to her head," Calvin said.  
  
"Can you see yourselves out?" Calvin's mother got to her feet. "I have to see your father about...things."  
  
"You do--Hey, Hobbes, leggo, stop elbowing me."  
  
"Honestly, you two are incorrigible."  
  
Calvin's mother took the stairs two at a time heading up.  
  
If she had been less distracted, she would have wondered at the neighing coming from the basement behind her.  
  
++++  
  
Susie blew her nose into a tissue. Ugh. Stupid, crazy Calvin with his obsession with snowballs. He could tell everyone that it had been an accident. She knew that he had done it deliberately. Now she was sick. She would miss school. She would be behind on her lessons. It would go on her permanent record. Harvard would see it, and reject her. Then she would have to go to some community college that would never launch her into a political career that would end with her as the first female President of the United States. She would languish in--in some career that involved a paper hat. She was doomed to mediocrity by Calvin Watterson.  
  
The doorbell rang.  
  
Her mother was out at a bridge game. Snuffling into a sodden kleenex, Susie trudged to the front door to see who it was. She kept the chain on as she cracked it open. Goosebumps rose under her pajamas when a chilly wind blew snow through the crack. It took a minute before she could make out who it was. Or rather, what it was. Calvin's stuffed tiger was propped up on the front porch wearing an adorable derby and monocle. Beneath the scarf that Hobbes always wore on winter days was a cute white cravat. In its paws was the envelope of the type that Susie associated with grown-up dinner party invitations. Propped up besides Hobbes was a thermos.  
  
Susie paused.  
  
She came back a few minutes later after packing a snowball from the drifts by the back porch. This had to be one of his nasty little tricks. If he thought he could paste her unawares, the sandy-haired jerk had another think coming at high speed right at his face. Susie leaped out ready to get hers in first. No one was hiding on either side of the door. No sign of him behind the tree. Susie frowned. Where was he? Carefully, she took Hobbes in along with the envelope and the thermos. On the front of the envelope was some sort of shellfish. No. It was the golden symbol that Susie had seen on the front of Agatha Heterodyne's locket. She had asked her to come over to play, hadn't she? Curious, Susie opened it. Inside was a stiff, cream-coloured card with elegant handwriting. Definitely not Calvin's.  
  
**The Lady Heterodyne Wishes To Invite**  
  
**Miss Susie Derkins**  
  
**To An Afternoon Tea and Adventure At Her Convenience**  
  
**Please imbibe of the proffered traditional Romanian herbal remedy**  
  
**(Calvin did not spit into it)**  
  
Below that:  
  
Hahaha, did!  
  
**Didn't**  
  
Did!  
  
**DID NOT.**  
  
Ow, ow, not the wedgie, okay, okay I didn't spit into the stupid drink.  
  
Susie gingerly unscrewed the top of the thermos. A heavenly scent cut through her blocked nose. Her eyes fluttered when she smelled ginger and cinnamon and lemon. It made her think of nights beside the fire watching the flames while wrapped up in her favorite blanket. She had poured the contents into the plastic cup that was part of the thermos bottle's cap. It certainly cleared up her sinuses, she thought woozily after picking herself off the floor. It also had cleared out most of her short-term memory. There was something. An invitation. Yes. Susie slipped on a snowsuit and coat over her pajamas. Being a good girl, she wrote a note to her mother that she was heading out. Tucking a hat down over her ears, she ventured outside to find Agatha.  
  
Agatha was waiting in what looked like Calvin's sled with what looked like jet-engines and the cow-catcher from heck welded to the front. Sitting behind her, Calvin Watterson waved cheerily. There were...bolts on either side of his neck. Hobbes was perched behind him. Susie whirled about. She could have sworn the stuffed tiger was in the house. A whinny made her whirl back. In a harness in front of the sled was a rocking horse with treads where the hooves should be. Susie gaped when it turned its head about to face her. Its eyes glowed an eerie blue. Steam hissed out of its plastic nostrils.  
  
Agatha cracked a horsewhip.  
  
" _Susie! Ready for fun?_ " 


	13. Chapter 13

"Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way," Calvin sang.  
  
"Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse-clank sleigh." Agatha snapped her whip.  
  
"Through the woods we go, cackling all the way," Hobbes said.  
  
"Shouldn't it be 'laughing'?"  
  
"Look who's at the reins."  
  
"Omigosh what is going on?" Susie cried. "This can't be okay!"  
  
"That's what you think Dorkins!" Calvin grinned. "To the Yukon we're headed today."  
  
"Don't be silly, Calvin," Susie sang. "It would take weeks to get there by car."  
  
"That's what you think, Susie." Calvin nudged Agatha in the ribs. "Guess what the rocket boosters are for?"  
  
"I think I should get off." Hobbes eyed Agatha's hand over a red button. "There is a sudden sense of doom."  
  
"LOOK OUT! WE'RE HEADED FOR A RAVINE!" Susie screamed.  
  
And then the boosters went **_PHOOOOOOOM_**!  
  
++++++  
  
_There are strange things done in the midnight sun_  
  
_By the men who moil for gold_  
  
Calvin grunted as he worked Mom's garden spade into the frozen earth of the river bank. He lifted it up to Horace"s muzzle. The horse-clank breathed hot steam to melt it into mud. Dumping it in a pie plate, he dipped the plate into a hole chopped into the ice covering the river. He had to hold his hands for Horace to warm against the cold. Swish, swish, swish--he swirled the cloudy water in the pan like he had seen in that documentary about the California gold rush. This was so boring. It had been way more fun to dig into Mom’s flower beds for the mother lode. Mom had no sense of perspective. What was the prospect of immense riches compared to a few geraniums?  
  
Calvin grinned when he saw the tell-tale glitter at the bottom edge of the pan. There was a pinch’s worth of dust and a couple of tiny nuggets. He fished out the drawstring bag he used for his marbles. It was empty now except for what was bulging the bottom, Calvin turned his back to the wind to scrape his sweet riches into the bag. Yes! Soon he would have to enough to buy that tank he was going to drive through school. Double-knotting the drawstring, he shoved it into a pocket before packing away his gold-panning gear.  
  
Susie tightened her hold around his neck. She hadn’t let go since the thrusters had kicked in. Great. He was going to be saddled with her for the rest of his life. He would have to disguise her as a hunchback to avoid the shame of the hideous disfigurement of a girl on his back. Maybe Agatha could cut her off. She had said something about seeing a lot of operations. There had to be a hacksaw in that tool kit of hers. Uh, she was deep in the crazy place repairing the sleigh from when they had sideswiped that border station crossing into Canada. That big dumb goof of a tiger was grinning like a loon handing her tools. Oh, well. Breathing deeply, he looked out the other side of the river bank where the tundra of the Yukon spread out into the distance beneath the Northern Lights.  
  
"There must be major solar activity," Susan said. "I didn't think we would ever see the Lights this far south."  
  
"We're in the Klondike," Calvin said. "Of course we can see them."  
  
"Even with the--" Susan shuddered. "The b-boosters. We couldn't have traveled that far. We must be in a state park."  
  
"And this?" Calvin shook his bag.  
  
"Fool's gold." He didn't have to see her to know she was smirking. "Pretty appropriate."  
  
"And that?" Calvin hooked a nosebag full of charcoal briquettes over Horace's mouth.  
  
"It's real." Susan's gloved hand patted the horse-clank's plastic sides. "It isn't made-up like a duplication machine going wild or aliens in the backyard. It's like finding a lamp-post in the woods behind the house."  
  
"Why would you find one here? We're in the Yukon," Calvin said. "And you just didn't believe me because your narrow point of view can't handle this complex world of alien invaders and transmorgifiers."  
  
"This is right out of those old Trelawney Thorpe novels I found in the garage," Susie said. "But, um, Calvin? I had enough adventure for now. I could use some warm tea."  
  
Uuuuuuuuurrrrgh. Now he had to suffer the horrors of a girly tea party. Though, he was all for getting out of the wind right now. Mom hadn't prepared them for winter sub-arctic conditions. That was a weird oversight on her part. Well, Agatha looked like she was coming out of Crazy Sparky Place. Her hum was winding down like Spaceman Spiff's blaster after unleashing a charge. Calvin drifted close to Hobbes before shrugging hard. Natural girl instincts to cling to fuzzy animals worked in his favor. She latched onto him like a limpet mine. Freedom! Rolling his shoulders, he pulled the tent off the sleigh's luggage rack. The mass of red-furred mammoth hide had a golden trilobite with a button on top.  
  
Pressing it brought strange chuffing sounds from within. The war-mammoth pelt tent expanded on its own until it was the size of a small circus tent. They were so taking this along on the next camping trip Dad dragged them on! Susie stared up at it in slack-jawed yokel wonder. Her eyes were wide as saucers as the tent flaps swept aside on their own. Agatha wiped fog from her glasses before jolting out whatever nutty space in her head she went in when Sparking. Bowing, she invited them into her tent really formally. Calvin pushed by her. Yadda, yadda! He was freezing out here!  
  
The inside of the tent was toasty-warm. Old-fashioned oil-lamps hanging on hooks in the tent poles gave off a dim light that left a lot of shadows about. Calvin gulped when he saw what the tent-supports were made of. Those bones looked scarily people-shaped. Susie didn't seem to notice. She let out a squeal of approval on seeing the main part of the tent. It really was impressive, he guessed. There was a big bed with high posts supporting a canopy worked with star patterns in the back. He wondered what the thick iron rings on the posts were for. There was a huge bathtub big enough to play Battle of Midway in that even tempted him. Thick rugs hid the mammoth hide floor. A couch large enough for all four of them was set before a metal fireplace with gas nozzles instead of proper logs.  
  
"Here you go, Hobbes," Susie said, setting her across her lap.  
  
"Ahhhhhhh." Hobbes sprawled out.  
  
"Don't be fooled," Calvin said. "He looks harmless. But in a second, wham! Mandibles of death."  
  
"Go soak your--" Hobbes stiffened, then drooped when Susie rubbed his belly. "Head."  
  
"This is like a pavilion of some fairy princess," Susie hopped onto the couch.  
  
"It is the war-tent of my many-times great aunt Euphrosynia," Agatha said. She fiddled with some kind of metal jug with a teapot on top. "This is the samovar she served tea to Andronicus Valois, the Storm King of Europa, when he asked for her hand."  
  
"How romantic," Susie sighed.  
  
"And we even have the tea set she served him with." Agatha brought out a tray.  
  
Uh.  
  
Right, he had always suspected that the Heterodynes used to be bad. Not just Saturday morning cartoon villain bad, but Moe bad.  
  
"My aunt Rosita has figurines like these." Susie picked up a skull teacup. "She said it was in honour of the dead. There was even sugar-skull candy."  
  
"Ask her for the recipe," Agatha said. "This is Euphrosynia's Herod pattern tea-set. It is genuine Mechanicsburg bone china."  
  
"That sounds a bit dangerous to use around him," Susie said.  
  
"What, you think I'm just going to--ooops!"  
  
"Case in point," Susie said.  
  
"No harm done." Agatha picked up the fallen cup. She whacked it hard against the hearth. "Delicate doesn't last long around Heterodynes."  
  
"What sort of tea did you make?" Susie sniffed the steam wafting from the teapot's spout. "It smells nutty."  
  
"Oh. I think I should dump that." Agatha whisked it away. "It still must have traces of her special blend."  
  
"Don't worry, I love almonds," Susie said.  
  
"Trust me, Euphrosynia's special blend is to die for." Agatha pushed forward some instant hot chocolate packets. "Here. Just use the hot water from the tap in the samovar."  
  
"That was a little strange," Susie said, as Agatha hurried outside. She smirked at him. "So, you're actually going to be with us slimy girls in a boring tea party?"  
  
"Nooooooo," Calvin said. "This definitely won't be boring." 


End file.
